


just one step at a time

by hickeylou (sowearegay)



Series: Fences in a row [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fingering, M/M, Not Beta'd, Rimming, casual anal stuff, harry calls louis baby too much ik, i tried to make the sex scene realistic you'll see what i mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-20 15:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2433407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sowearegay/pseuds/hickeylou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is insecure and Harry has trouble sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just one step at a time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ariadne_odair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne_odair/gifts).



> Everyone's weak.

It's a longing that Harry has; to be with Louis, to hold him. And Harry's seen the movies, read the books, learnt the learn—but it's just, life isn't like the movies. It's not like the books. And, love, love is undefined. 

                                                                                                      —

Harry notices Louis from the get-go, memorizes the boldest things about him in a heartbeat. He can see the guard in his eyes, the brick wall that's learned to hold itself up even in its now withered state. Harry imagines it was never entirely stable in the first place, never strong enough to hold in the worst of storms.

So, when Louis lets him love him, lowers his walls if only just barely, just enough to let Harry in, inch by inch—Harry shows him all the love he's ever shown anyone. 

                                                                                                      —

"You're beautiful, you know that?" Harry asks one night, nosing his face into the warmth of Louis' neck as they cuddle—sitting closely, languidly—on the couch and watch a film. Harry loves the smell of Louis, loves his warmth, his veins, his heartbeat. Harry can hear it in the soft catch of Louis' breath, can feel it in the small stutter of his heart under his skin at the praising words—Louis doesn't believe it, not one word. 

"Harry—" He tries.

"'M not lying," Harry presses on, placing a tender, lingering kiss at the side of his neck before whispering, "You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen—most beautiful thing in the world."

Harry's never meant the words more genuinely than he does now in the quiet confession of mouth on neck, heartbeat on heartbeat, breath on flesh. And, it's not that he never meant the words as he said them before, it's just, this time—this time under the soft furrow of his brows Harry realizes that, yeah. Louis' pretty, Louis'  _beautiful_ , and Louis is his, but Louis doesn't believe one word of it. Never has. 

Harry pulls up, arms around the smaller boy in a loose hold before it's dropped altogether. Louis looks up at Harry wonderingly, almost shyly, scared in the slightest—worried. Harry's brows furrow further. "I mean it, you know. You're beautiful." Louis doesn't say anything, stares at Harry with pleading eyes of hopefulness—he wants to believe Harry, is almost desperate to, really, but he just, he really can't. Can't see it.  

"I love you, Louis Tomlinson, and I mean that, too. I just—I wish you would believe me." Harry says softly, brows dropped in an almost sympathetic position, eyes fixed on Louis' fringe as he flicks it back tenderly. His hand trails down the side of Louis' face, rubbing softly over his cheek, the sound of the telly producing white, blurry noise behind their silence.

"Show me, Harry." Louis whispers softly, almost inaudibly. Harry's eyes flick to his in wonder. Louis cups his hand over Harry's, rubbing over it soothingly with his own thumb. "Show me you love me, show me—" Louis pauses, the words forming a small lump in his throat, brows furrowing in slight at the foreign sound of them, taste and feel. "Show me how beautiful I am." He whispers softly.

Harry nods, wide eyes on Louis'. "Yeah, alright." He agrees, leaning in. Harry kisses him and it's the most beautiful Louis' ever felt. (And it's only the beginning.) "You're beautiful, Lou. So beautiful." He whispers over Louis' lips, slanted eyes on his.

                                                                                                      —

Sometimes, for Harry—and understandably so—it's hard for him to understand where Louis' coming from. With all the patience and love Harry has, he lives everyday  _trying_ to understand, living  _for_ Louis, trying to make him see, but sometimes—sometimes it seems an almost useless charity. Harry can't make Louis  _see_ and it frustrates him (subconsciously) to no end until it bursts out of him, always making him feel terrible about himself, try to make Louis love him again (as if he ever stopped). Try to make him understand.

"Harry," Louis says, only just audible over the music. "Harry, can we, um, can we go somewhere else? Talk to other people?" Harry doesn't know what it is or  _why_ , but Louis' always acted  _different_ with Grimmy. When around him or when brought up, Louis always seemed to curl up into himself, always seemed quieter and more desperate in the worst way possible. And Harry, Harry's near drunk. 

"No, come on, babe. He's about to tell a story! Be polite." Harry softly, drunkenly reprimands. Louis doesn't say anything, simply nods and holds onto Harry's arm tighter, curls into his side, his warmth. Louis takes a deep breath. Harry laughs, waving his beer about. 

                                                                                                      —

"Lou, is there a reason you don't like Nick?" It's the same question every time, always asked in the most casual tone and casual of times.

Louis furrows his brows. "I don't not like Nick." He says curiously, but it's a weak statement. Harry shrugs it off—as he always does.

"Tea?" Louis nods softly, smiling with tired, guarded eyes.

                                                                                                      —

"Lou," Harry whispers softly, drunkenly. He pokes at his cheek. "Lou," he tries again. Louis sighs into reality, waking up only in slight, eyes slanted, barely open. Harry grins. "Hey, Lou."

Louis blinks. "What time is it?" He rasps, rubbing at his lids to keep them from shutting on such a beautiful face. Harry shrugs, grinning still. He's hovering over him on his hands and knees and he's so drunk that they'll probably give out anytime soon, leave Harry to collapse all over Louis. Louis can smell the alcohol on Harry's breath.

"Louis," Harry whispers, planting small pecks and kisses just about where ever he can get his lips to fall, which, evidently, happened to be all the places that take Louis' breath away, but okay. "Louis," Harry whispers again. Louis responds in a shaky breath, hand (fondly) in Harry's hair.

"Yeah?"

"Let me make love to you, yeah?" Harry's nudging behind Louis' ear with his nose, placing messy, wet kisses all over. "Open you up real slow" Harry giggles, hand trailing down Louis' torso until it's over his crotch, smiling and giggling softly, drunkenly into his neck as he grasps it warmly, "Kiss you down there."

Usually Louis's not one for drunken antics if Harry's the only one drunk, but with the way that Harry's grabbing him and kissing him, Louis doesn't think he can hold out this time. He turns and Harry's staring at him with that little spark in his eye, glowing green in the moonlight that's only just filtering in, just enough to allow Louis a look at the perfection of his boyfriend.

"Yeah, alright." He agrees, shakily. Harry grins and his lips are immediately on Louis', working wetly against his in the sweet making of a blissful snog. Louis grips onto Harry, the blunt tips of his fingers digging into his boyfriend's toned biceps—he can never get enough of him. 

                                                                                                      —

"Morning, love." Harry whispers softly. Louis' eyes flutter open. He blushes. 

"Morning." He says in an adorably small voice, eyes twinkling as they look up into Harry's bright and tired ones. 

"Made you toast," He says, biting his lip. Louis' eyes widen for a second before his brows rise. Harry gives a side pout before settling his head on Louis' bare shoulder, cuddling himself in until he's breathing into his neck, causing shivers to run up Louis' spine.

"Left it downstairs, though." Harry says, disappointed. "'S too cold to fetch it all alone. Wanna cuddle with you." He says softly, cuddling himself even tighter against Louis' body. He lets out a heavy breath against his neck and Louis can tell that he's tired. Harry yawns. "Wanted to make up for coming so late last night."

Louis sighs, resting his head against Harry's. "It's alright." 

A few moments of silence pass. Louis has a million thoughts running through his head and one of them's definitely that Harry's on the verge of sleep again, judging by his shallow breaths. Louis decides to ask anyway. 

"Who—uh, who were you with? Last night, I mean." Harry had asked him if he wanted to go out—Louis urged him to go out without him, in that way he'd have no reason to not pick up some milk.

Harry gives a tired sigh and turns further into Louis' neck, breath hitting the skin of it as he speaks. "Grimmy."

Louis holds back a cringe—he hates that Harry has a nickname for him—but there's nothing he can do about the sinking feeling he gets in his chest. "Any—uh, anyone else?" He asks shakily in a small whisper.

"Mmm, no." Harry hums softly, thinking for a moment. "Everyone else bailed. Including you." He comments, but it's not accusing, just a simple statement. He plants a kiss against Louis' neck softly, tiredly. 

"Right, yeah. Hope you had fun." Louis regrets ever having asked anything, could have gone his entire life without knowing. 

It's not that Louis didn't trust Harry, if nothing else, that is everything Louis put into him. When Louis first met Harry, he was with Nick. Grimmy. Whatever. Not romantically, but they were standing together on the morning that Louis bumped into him—literally. (That's a story for later). The point is, Harry and Nick have known each other longer than Louis could ever hope to know anyone. They knew things about each other that Louis' only barely getting to know about Harry after so many months of dating. It's no secret, either, that they knew intimate things about each other as well, Harry told Louis as much.

"Loads." Harry mumbles, tiredly.

Louis doesn't reply.

                                                                                                      —

" _Babe,_ come out with me, yeah?" Louis is a homebody. That much has always been evident. Harry is a partier. That much has  _always,_ always been known.

"Harry, no." Louis says, annoyed in slight as he shakes his arm from Harry's grasp.

"Babe, Louis, come on." Louis' not facing Harry, walking away from him, actually, but he can tell in from his voice that Harry's pouting. Louis sighs and turns around. Harry looks at him with hopeful eyes.

"Harry, I don't want to go." He says, stern and exasperated. 

Harry grins, slinking his arm around Louis' waist softly, walking up to him until they're chest to chest. Harry looks down at Louis who's now looking away. "C'mon, babe." He whispers softly, leaning in. "We could get a few drinks, get buzzed just enough, come back home and make some memories, yeah? Some love, maybe? Or maybe," he says softly, lips moving against the shell of Louis' ear with every word, breath tickling Louis. "Maybe you just wanna make dirty  _sex_ , huh? Bet you'd  _love_  that, wouldn't you? All noise and heat. Wet all over, what do you think?"

Louis would lying to himself to say he wasn't in the slightest bit turned on by Harry's words, and the blush that creeps up his neck onto his cheeks is full proof of that. Louis can't help but let out a shaky breath as Harry licks at the shell of his ear, pulling him closer by the chest til he's on his tiptoes. 

"What do you say?" He repeats. Louis tries to look away.

"Harry," he whispers shakily, "Please, no."

Harry sighs and lets go of him, tired in his half-hour attempt now to get Louis to go out with him. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "Why don't you ever want to go out with me?"

"It's not that I don't want to go out with you," Louis reasons, "I just know that you want to go out with Nick, so you should."

Harry's face scrunches up. "What's wrong with Grimmy?" 

Louis sighs, he's tired. "Nothing's wrong with him, Harry. I just don't enjoy his company much, but  _you_  do and he's your friend and if you want to hang out with him you should. That's all."

"Louis, I don't want to hang out with  _him_ , I want us all to hang out. I just don't understand your problem with him. He's  _my_ friend, Lou, and he should be yours, too." Now Harry's on edge.

Louis sighs exasperatedly, turning to face Harry front on. "There is no problem, _Harry._  You want to hang out with him then cool, go on and do that, but I _don't_  and I _won't_. Just go already and leave me here alone, once again."

Harry's seething now. "Well it's not as if I don't ask you to come out every weekend, don't act like it's  _me_ , like  _I'm_ the bad guy here for wanting my boyfriend to get along with my  _best mate_. You're the one who's always telling me to just go on ahead without you!" And they both know that this is a fight that's been waiting to happen. _  
_

"Yes, Harry, but you're not  _actually_ supposed to listen! Bloody hell, who leaves their  _boyfriend_ home all alone every damn weekend to hang out with his platonic close mate that he's _fucked_ before?"

Harry's eyes narrow. Louis didn't mean to blow up like that, but it happened and he's not taking it back—it's all true. "Are you trying to say something, Louis?" Louis scoffs and rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, go on, then. God forbid you leave me waiting." Harry says, almost mockingly, and Louis can't control himself anymore. 

"That's just it, Harry! Every time you leave and say you're going out with Nick you leave  _me_ waiting! I never know if I'll see you again and you just don't  _see_ it, Harry. You don't  _see_ the way he looks at you, the way he looks at me, but I do! He looks at you like you're the prized jewel and like I'm the one who stole it and, I just, I never know Harry because you're always so enthusiastic to hang out with him and I never know if one day you'll realize that I'm not what you want and everything you  _have_ wanted has been right beside you this whole time and I—" Louis can't go on any further. He's not even looking at Harry anymore, just trying to keep himself from crying, sniffling into his fist as he fights back tears. Harry's mood softens at the immediate sign of his boyfriend's weakness and vulnerability, always there to protect him as he makes his way to him, wrapping his arms warmly around Louis even with his weak attempts of resistance.

"Lou, babe, that'll never happen. I love you, you know that. I love you so much." It's times like these where, really, if anything Harry should probably be upset that his boyfriend is out of whack being jealous of his best friend, but Harry shows nothing but love and understanding because he  _knows_ Louis is insecure and he  _knows_ how upset he can get about things that aren't even there.

"Harry, stop." Louis whispers weakly, tears still pricking in his eyes. He hates that he's weak. He hates that Harry's  _strong_. "Harry, please, honestly, stop it."

"I'm sorry babe, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you felt that way I—I'm sorry. We're just friends I promise, love. I'll never look at him the way I look at you."

"Any good boyfriend would have seen the signs." Louis mumbles, mainly to himself. He realizes his mistake though when he feels Harry stiffen. His soft coos of reassurance stop and Harry's no longer trying to make him feel better. Louis stiffens too, he hadn't meant to say that. He was just so _angry_ , at himself mostly. And that's how it always is. Harry is always there for Louis and Louis always takes it out on Harry, tears him apart inside without meaning to. Fuck. "Harry—Harry, shit. I didn't mean that, Harry."

Harry's pulling away and Louis' trying desperately to hold onto him, to tell him sorry, to make him understand that he didn't mean what he said, that he never does. But, fuck, Harry's a whole three feet away from Louis, looking at him with so much offense and hurt that it kills Louis to know that he did that to him. His tears are falling freely now, hating himself more than anything else and he's trying to reach out to Harry and apologize, but he's not having it, looking away from Louis completely as he tries to grasp the words he's just heard. 

"Good boyfriend," He whispers to himself, unbelieving. " _Good boyfriend_." He repeats, this time looking at Louis straight on. 

"Harry—" Louis tries again, but Harry's still not listening and they've never had a fight this big, never insulted each other so deeply that, at this point, Louis just can't stop the tears form coming.

"If a good boyfriend's what you're looking for,  _Louis_ , and I'm not it, then I don't know who the hell is.  _But_ , as a bad boyfriend, I'd like to say this. You are, the absolute,  _most_  complicated fucking person I've  _ever_ met." Louis gasps, he can feel the words tearing a hole in his heart. Harry continues.

"I never  _know_ with you, Louis. I never know  _anything_ with you! You know that? God, fuck me for not taking care of my god almighty perfect boyfriend the way  _he_ deserves, but God forbid he recognize that at least I  _tried._ For as long as I've been in this relationship that's all I've done is  _try_ and you know it would've been nice if he'd have let me in for once instead of hiding behind those god damn walls! You know, we're supposed to be close and I don't even know how the fuck I'm even supposed to  _talk_ to you when you get guarded at the bloody smallest thing!" _  
_

Louis' silent, staring at Harry in shock and pain. Harry's staring back at him, an angry look on his face as he tries to calm himself, breathing hard.

"Harry," Louis whispers, only barely audible.

"No," Harry says, pacing the floor. "No, you know what?" He pauses, facing Louis dead on. "Don't say a thing. I'm leaving." He brushes past Louis a little roughly, reaching for the keys on the table behind him as he grabs his coat and makes his way out. Louis wants to reach for Harry, tell him it's alright and that he didn't mean a word he said, that he knows Harry didn't mean what he said, but somehow it's become impossible. Louis' just so,  _so_  hurt. _  
_

"Don't wait up." Harry mumbles as he walks out the door. 

The door slams and Louis can feel his heart piece with the vibration of it.

                                                                                                      —

"Hey,  _mate_." Nick greets as Harry meets him at the bar. Harry nods in greeting. 

"Double shot of tequila, please." Nick looks at him curiously, half narrow eyes in contemplation. He's drunk. 

"Ey, what's up with you, mate? Have a bad day?" He asks, giving a sad, drunken shove to Harry's shoulder as he giggles stupidly. Harry throws his head back as he takes the shot, hissing and sucking on a lime slice as it goes down. He loves the burn. 

"Somewhat." Harry admits, taking a seat on the stool beside Nick. 

                                                                                                       —

"Oh come on, forget that bloke! Why worry about him when you've got your best mate right here?" Nick says drunkenly, slinging his arm around Harry's shoulder. 

Harry laughs, gulping down yet another beer before holding it up and waving it about in agreement. " _Yeah_!" He shouts enthusiastically, throwing his arm around Nick's shoulders. He looks over at Nick, just a few inches shorter than him, eyes twinkling with drunken fervor, grinning in the cockiest, maddest way possible. Nick stares back at him, his friend of so long, his occasional lover. He can't help himself. 

Harry's just about to slur something along the lines of Nick being right and Harry needing to let go already when he feels lips press against his own roughly. Harry's shocked, eyes widening as he looks down at Nick in confusion, eyes closed as his lips work against Harry's. The facts settling in, a grin grows on Harry's lips as he pushes back against Nick with equal roughness, eyes fluttering as he kisses back in a clash of teeth and tongue. Nick, shorter than Harry, shrinks just a bit beneath him, Harry's arm wrapping itself around his waist and pulling him closer, tighter to him. Harry slicks his tongue over Nick's teeth, loves the feel of them beneath his buds, can taste the mixture of alcohol, cigarettes, and lime that is  _Nick_ _._ Nick has both arms wrapped around Harry's neck now, gripping at the hairs on the nape of it, knowing from experience that they're Harry's most sensitive.

They're a minute into the snogging when the facts that settled in have now been processed in Harry's head. Harry's at a bar, snogging Nick. Harry has a boyfriend who, evidently enough, is  _not_ Nick. He is, in fact, back at home where Harry slammed the door on him as he left. And Harry's still snogging Nick.  _Fuck_. 

Harry pulls away almost immediately, shock coursing through his veins, unbelieving of what he's just done, what he's just  _enjoyed_. Nick is unrelenting, though. He begins kissing down Harry's neck to the valley of his chest through his half-buttoned button up shirt. "Come on, babe. Let's get outta here, yeah?" He urges, gripping Harry's bum and slowly lowering to his knees as he kisses and licks all the open skin he can find, over the fabric teasingly if he can't find any. Harry shakes his head in disbelief and tries to push Nick away. 

"Nick," He tries, "Nick—Nick,  _stop_." He says finally, shoving Nick back. He hadn't meant to push him so hard, but Nick wouldn't get away and Harry's  _drunk_ , watching as Nick stumbles back, looking at Harry incredulously.  _  
_

"What the  _fuck_." Nick snaps.

"I have a  _boyfriend_ , Nick." Harry says, angry now. 

Nick scoffs. "Yeah, one you were just griping about no longer than two minutes ago! He didn't seem all that important when you  _kissed me back_  just a minute ago, now did he?"

" _I'm drunk_." Harry reasons through his teeth, trying desperately hard not to blow up on Nick, but fuck he deserves it. "You and I may have happened once or twice,  _Nick_ , but that's over now, alright? Over. I'm with  _Louis_  now and we won't ever be together again, get that through your _head_."

Harry's seething and Nick's clenching his teeth. That's it, that's enough, that's all Harry can take. He grabs his coat from the stool and brushes past Nick roughly, not noticing all the people staring.

                                                                                                       —

It's half past one when Louis hears keys jingling at the door. He sits up, hissing at the abrupt pain in his head—he'd cried until he passed out, and if the headache was bad then, it was worse now. Louis manages to get himself up without too many complications and steps out of the room quietly.

"Harry?" Louis asks tiredly, eyes blinking into reality. He rubs his eyes, the room coming into focus under the light. "Harry—Harry, I'm so sorry babe," He says, voice cracking. "I didn't mean what I said. You're—you're a good boyfriend, you're the best boyfriend, best friend I could ever ask for I'm—I'm so sorry."

Harry's holding back his tears now, the lump in his throat the most painful thing he's ever experienced, looking at Louis vacantly. Louis thinks it's his fault. "Louis," he tries, but he won't stop apologizing. "Louis, no stop, Louis." He's holding his hands now and Louis' looking up at him with swollen, hopeful eyes. Harry sniffs. Unable to hold his tears anymore he looks down at their hands. 

"Louis, I—" His voice cracks. "When I left tonight, I—I went to the bar to meet up with Nick and I, we were just talking and he could tell that I was off, he could tell that I was, Louis. So I got around to telling him that we got in an argument and it was killing me and he just kept ordering me all these drinks and telling me everything that I wanted to hear in my fit and then he just, he kissed  _me_ , Louis. But I—" He looks up at Louis whose hand is on his mouth, tears beginning to fall down his own cheeks. "I didn't stop him, Lou. Not nearly fast enough, I—I kissed him, too. Kissed him back and I—I'm  _sorry_."

"It wasn't like that, Louis, I promise it wasn't I was just so  _mad_ and he caught me off guard. I shoved him right off, Louis. Shoved him off and walked away and I just, I was so  _disgusted_ , Louis, please. You have to understand."

Louis' backing away now, trying to get as much distance between him and Harry as possible, whispering ' _No_ ' softly to himself as he does. Harry keeps moving closer, apologizing. And that's when Louis begins to believe all the words Harry told him just before he stormed off. And that's when Louis loses what little hope and trust he ever had. 

"Louis, I'm sorry baby. Please, _please_ forgive me, love."

"No," he says a little louder, but it's just above a whisper—more to himself than anything. He's crying, now. Harry reaches for him, tries to comfort him, but Louis resists and Harry doesn't force it.

"Harry, Harry  _no,_  please I—" He looks up at him and Harry can feel his heart piecing at the sight. Louis' looking up at him with tears in his eyes, glistening over the pain he feels inside, so,  _so_ hurt and lost. So small. Vulnerable. Harry can feel more tears pricking. It wasn't just a kiss,  _fuck._ He  _snogged_  him. 

"Please." He whispers softly, voice cracking around the word. Harry lets go of him completely and takes a few steps back, giving him his space. "Just, please. Please leave me alone." It's a soft whisper, but it's enough to leave Harry crumbling beneath it. "I just, I need to be alone. I need—I'm sorry, Harry I—" Harry understands. 

"Goodnight, Harry." And just like that, Louis' out of sight with the soft  _click_ of their bedroom door. He hadn't even looked at Harry, mumbled the words to the space around him but never directly. Harry imagines this is what it felt like when he did the same before slamming the door on him earlier. 

                                                                                                      —

Louis wakes up cold and alone in bed, eyes swollen and head pounding a bit. Louis had forgotten what it was like to cry himself to sleep. When he walks out of the bedroom he sees Harry, fast asleep on the couch, his eyes pink and swollen from tears as well. He's only barely covered with a thin sheet, Louis thinks he must be freezing, but he feels his heart break even worse when he looks at him. And it's nobody's fault but his own, he knows that, it's just—

Louis' reaching on his tiptoes for a bowl, shirt lifting just above his bum, when Harry pads into the kitchen silently, putting the kettle on without a word. Louis looks back in curiosity, trying to keep his heart from piecing. 

"Tea?" Harry speaks up, finally. Louis turns back, gripping the bowl between his hands. 

"Yeah, please."

There's silence between the two as Harry reaches into the cabinet, fetching tea bags, mugs, and pills. Louis watches him as he grabs a glass of water and downs a few pills, rinsing the cup and filling it once again before walking over and placing the bags in the mugs beside kettle, sliding the bottle cap with two white little pills and the glass of water. 

"For your headache." Harry whispers softly, not meeting Louis' eyes. Louis tries to say thank you, but it's heavy on his tongue and the silence is killing him. He clears his throat. 

"Thank you, Harry." Harry nods, still not meeting Louis' eyes as he watches the kettle. Louis downs the pills and water, capping the bottle before he turns to Harry, leaning his back against the counter. It's not half a minute before Harry's handing over one of the mugs in a reserved manner. Louis takes it and thanks Harry once again, staring down at the dark liquid in the mug between his fingers. It's silent save for the sound of tea being cooled and sips being taken. Harry's leaning against the opposite counter.

"H—Harry," He stutters out. Louis' brows furrow. "I'll, um, I'm sorry. For last night, I mean. I should have let you in, it's not my room. I just, I don't know, Harry, but I, uh, I'll try from now on to be more, uh, more clear." Louis clears his throat, brows still furrowed as he stares down at the mug in his hands, knuckles turning white. "Less, uh,  _complicated_. And jealous." He adds as an after thought.

Harry places his mug on the counter, but Louis still won't look up. "No, no, baby." He whispers softly, hand rubbing Louis' arm reassuringly before he pulls it away, unsure of where they stand. Louis' heart stutters. "You're perfect." He says, and he wants so desperately to give a small swipe of his thumb against Louis' cheek bone, wants to place his hand under his chin and have him look at him, see the sincerity in his eyes. He holds himself back. "You're perfect, babe. I promise." He says, smiling softly. There's a brief pause.

"I'll—I'll listen more, try to understand harder. And I won't go out if it's not with you. Nick and I, we didn't mean anything, baby. He's not what I want. You are." Silence follows before Louis speaks up, just above a whisper.

"Won't go out 'less it's to pick up milk, yeah?" Louis whispers softly, ignoring all else. It still hurts, hurts like fuck, but Louis doesn't want to think about it anymore. It was a mistake. People make mistakes. Harry grins, giving a small laugh. He can see the side of Louis' lip turning up in a small smile as well, and Louis' still not looking at him, but he reaches for Harry's hand, takes it softly in his tea-warmed one, letting Harry know that they're alright. 

"Yeah." He whispers softly.

Harry looks at Louis with wide, hopeful eyes, gripping onto his hand. Louis smiles softly, huffing a breath of relief as he rubs his thumb over Harry's hand. He looks up. "You're perfect, too." He says, a little twinkle in his eye. Harry swears his heart skips a beat. "Promise."

Harry places his hand on the side of Louis' neck, thumb passing over his chin soothingly. He leans in slowly, still unsure, still cautious. He pauses just before Louis' lips, their breaths shallow and mingling. Harry's eyes flick up to Louis' and Louis' flick down to Harry's lips, blinking under softly furrowed brows as he leans in, just an inch, before Harry beats him to it and presses their lips together in finality. 

It's a soft, slow kiss—ginger. It's beautiful. Their lips begin moving with each other's steadily, so used to the groove but feeling as if it's been gone forever, as if they're only just now kissing after millenniums. Harry leans further into the kiss, unable to get enough, pushing Louis' head back in slight as they continue, his hand still warm around the side of Louis' neck, holding him tighter than ever. He licks into Louis' mouth smoothly, loves the small, gasped moan of approval he gives at the unexpected entrance. Harry pulls away. 

"Let me make it up to you, baby." He says softly, taking the mug from Louis' iron grip and setting it aside. "Let me make you feel good." 

They're both breathing harder now and Louis' hands fall to Harry's chest without his security blanket cup of tea. "Let's make it up to each other." He suggests softly, looking up at Harry, his pink lips shining as he licks over them.

"No, babe. It's gonna be all about you, just you, Lou." Harry says lips just inches from Louis' as he grips either side of his waist. Louis looks into Harry's eyes, head craning only a little as he stares with wide eyes and swollen lips. 

Louis nods. "Okay." He whispers softly.

Harry leans in again, licking over Louis' lips, the kiss taking more passion. Louis clutches onto Harry's sweater and Harry clutches onto Louis, squatting and wrapping his arms entirely around his waist as he lifts him onto the counter. Louis gasps, the cold counter top hitting the bare underside of his thighs, but Harry leaves no time to spare, taking Louis' lips between his own and kissing him with passion, teeth tongue and all. But it's so,  _so_ much better than it ever was with Nick or anyone else. Filled with so much more  _love_ than  _lust_ , so much more hope and trust. It's like the two are clinging onto each other, unable to get enough, unable to imagine being separated. Louis pulls away, lips resting just above Harry's as he tries to catch his breath, panting. Harry takes his bottom lip between his teeth and Louis whines, clutching Harry's sweater between his fists.

He bunches it between his hands and tries to pull it up, can feel the shiver run up Harry's spine as the cold hits his newly bare skin. Harry pulls away, lets Louis' lip snap back into place and licking over it before ripping his sweater off. He leans back in with determination. Louis places his hands at Harry's bare, warm shoulders as their lips work against each other's once again, warm and wet and perfect.

Harry's hands move up Louis' thighs, squeezing the tops of them, reveling in their thickness as he grins against Louis' lips. They clash against Harry's toothy grin, gripping the curls at the nape of his neck as he tries to regain his breath without ending the snog. Harry nips lightly at Louis' bottom lip before pulling away, smirking into his neck. He pecks over it, nipping and sucking as he regains his own breath. 

"'M so glad you decided not to wear joggers."

"Harry," Louis breathes, hands mussing over his curls absentmindedly as he pants, stretching his neck and baring his skin for Harry's lips to nip.

"Harry," He breathes again, "Room."

Harry nods softly, giving one last, pinching nip. Louis gasps, hands tightening in Harry's hair. His hands trail from the tops of Louis' thighs to his hips, wrapping his arms around them as his grip falls to Louis' bum.

"Wrap your legs around me, baby." Louis complies and Harry catches his lips in a snog, lifting him off the counter and carrying him up the stairs. Louis tries his best to hold on, hands still mussing over Harry's curls and Harry tries his best to keep his balance and hold on Louis, still snogging him passionately. It's not hard for Harry to keep his hold on Louis, holding him close, tight against himself, and when they make it to the bedroom Harry takes his time laying him down softly on the sheets, pulling away and taking in the sight under him. 

Louis' eyes flicker open and rest on Harry's. His hair is disheveled against the duvet, fanned in the slightest as he pants through half-swollen lips. Hints of sunlight flicker into the room, Louis' lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones. Harry kisses over them softly, giving each cheek a lingering peck, savoring the heat under his lips. Louis' heart flutters and his eyes flicker shut, feeling beautiful and loved already.

"I love you, Lou." Harry whispers softly over the apple of Louis' cheek. It's confident and convincing, but Louis can hear the slight tremble of it. When he opens his eyes and Harry's are on him, he can see the tears Harry's holding back, feeling so,  _so_ sorry and  _so_ guilty for last night. He didn't mean the words he said, not one. It's a fact that Louis' complicated, and that sometimes Harry has trouble trying to understand him, but that's everything that Harry loves about him. He loves that he gets to learn Louis all over again day by day, loves that he can convince him of his love for him day in and day out, on countless occasions. And he loves that Louis' so hard to figure out. Despite the frustration at times, it's the best thing that Harry has ever experienced, because he knows, that in his difficulty, Louis only stayed because he trusted Harry, loved him, too. 

Louis' eyes are piercing as they stare back at Harry, still guarded in slight, but Harry can see the walls crumbling, coming apart slowly, brick by brick. Louis' eyes soften with guilt himself and pierce with understanding. He forgives Harry, forgives him entirely. Louis knows, realizes, that if they ever have a fight like that again, that if Harry ever leaves him, the words he spoke just the night before will tear him apart. The words he told himself weren't true, the words he told himself to forget will be the very words that end it all for him, but Harry's not planning on leaving any time soon (or ever, really, unless it's for milk) and Louis' not planning on letting go. 

"I love you, too." He breathes softly, hands tender in Harry's curls.

Harry leans in for a tender kiss, tear slipping down his cheek as he holds onto Louis with need. He's determined, absolutely determined to  _show_ him just how much he loves him, show him just how much he means to him. Words, they're nice, but they're not enough. They're not enough at all and Harry's determined to prove that. Harry's lips leave Louis' and he begins to trail kisses down his skin; neck, collar bones, bare patches of skin on his shoulders and around the dip of the all-too-big shirt he was wearing. They're tender and soft little things, like flowers, almost, blooming with heat and the blush of Louis' skin after his lips brush over. Harry begins bunching up Louis' shirt as he sucks a soft love bite on the dip of his collar bone, hands roaming the heat of his bare tummy under it. Louis squirms softly, the warm touch tickling.

"Love you," He mumbles softly, licking over the irritated skin. He places a kiss at his jaw. "Love you so much." 

Harry gets Louis' shirt off, kissing all over each newly freed piece of skin and Louis' complies, lifting his arms when time comes and Harry's lips start traveling back up his neck. Harry wants nothing more than to wrap his body around Louis, to feel the heat of his skin beneath his own, feel the softness, the goosebumps beneath his touch. Harry holds himself back, though, because this is all about Louis. It has to be. 

"I love you, Louis." He repeats, kisses trailing down his torso. "I love you _here,"_ He mumbles over the skin of his left peck, kissing it, "And  _here_ ," He says again, placing a supple kiss on his nipple. Harry continues this love-filled torture, placing kisses on every inch of Louis' skin, down his torso, on his fingers and up his arms, at his hips, down his thighs and calves and even at his toes, just trying to show him how much he loves him. And Louis feels so,  _so_ loved, so much more loved than ever before that he can feel tears pricking behind his eyes. He's whining and shifting under Harry's touch and he can't help it. 

Harry's half way through sucking (yet another) love bite into his thigh when Louis pants out his name, a lump in his throat. Harry soothes over the skin with his tongue softly, placing a tender kiss on it when he's finished. This one in particular had a purpose much grander than simply getting his lips on Louis or getting Louis to fret over them. Placed on Louis' inner thigh, Harry placed this one here because he knew Louis would feel it the next day, and days after that. It wasn't some marking thing, nothing that had to do with cockiness and ownership, Harry hadn't placed it there so when it rubbed against his jeans or trackies or even just his pants Louis would remember  _this night_ , but rather he'd remember the  _love_ he felt  _this night_. He placed it there in hopes that, if he had trouble one day or something happened or he forgot to  _tell_  Louis that he loved him, that he could feel the heat between his thighs and/or think back to the night that Harry placed it there in eager hopes of showing Louis just how much _he loved him_.

Harry kisses up his torso sparsely before reaching Louis lips in a soft kiss. "May I?" He whispers, fingers edging at the band of Louis' pants carefully. Louis' eyes are wide on Harry's as he nods, unable to find his voice.

"Yeah." He manages. It's just a breath, but it's enough.

Harry nods too, reaching for the lube on the bedside table and pecking a lingering kiss to Louis' lips before leaning back and laying between his legs once again. He peels his pants off slowly, not looking or wanting to rush into things the way they almost always did, wanting to take his time. Harry's cautious when he first begins, unsure of what he should do or where he should begin, but he decides that, for the sake of taking his time and making this long rather than quick, he'll start off with a lick or two before using his fingers. Following his decision, Harry sets the bottle aside and leans in carefully, his breath a bit shaky as he spreads Louis' legs a bit. When he looks up, Louis' looking at him, waiting for his next move, to see what's he's planned next. 

Certain that this is what he needs to do, Harry leans in and presses his tongue flat against Louis' hole, savoring the way that it flutters under his buds. Harry can hear the gasp the touch elicited, licking a strip up again, wanting to hear the sound more and more. It's messy, eating Louis out, but it's always been the one thing he loved about it, and as he licks up over and over again, Louis writhing above him, saliva on his chin, he can't help but love every second more and more.

" _Harry_ ," Louis gasps, threading his fingers through his hair and bucking on impulse. Harry loves it, sliding him arms underneath Louis' thighs and gripping his hips, pulling him closer, suffocating himself on Louis and loving every second. Louis' proper whining, now, sounding like he's about to cry as Harry works his tongue in as far as he can, pulling Louis harder against his face when he's not satisfied with the reach. Louis's gasping Harry's name without thought, chanting it like a prayer and Harry feels as glorious as a God, making Louis feel that good. 

" _Harry_ ," He gasps, "Please, your fingers." Harry knows he needs to stop now, that this is supposed to be about Louis, but he can't help but wonder if Louis could come like this, just from his tongue. Gathering all his strength to pull away from such a beautiful sight, feel, and taste, Harry squeezes his eyes shut, giving one last, long lick over Louis before finally pulling away, gasping for the air he hadn't realized he was in need of. Mouth open and panting, half his face slick with saliva, Harry licks his lips and nods. 

"Okay." Wiping a lazy hand over his mouth, Harry reaches for the lube and gets it open with a snick of the cap, lubing a few fingers up carefully. Before putting the first in, Harry blows against his hole a bit, outlining it with lube and rubbing it in nice, lubing his finger up again and blowing against it. Louis' writhing, trying to hold himself back, trying to be patient but the sensation is just  _so much_ that he wants  _more_. 

Finally, finally, Harry gets a finger in him slowly, moving it around and feeling as Louis clenches around him, the heat sending waves of pleasure to Harry. Louis' breathing hard above Harry as he puts another in carefully, scissoring them slowly in earnest, aiming to stretch him properly before directing his attention elsewhere. Once Harry thinks he's got a good enough stretch out of Louis that he needn't watch anymore, he leans up and takes a nipple into his mouth as he adds a third finger, hitting Louis' prostate with every other thrust. Louis' a sucker for nipple play and Harry knows it, knows that under it he can become a puddle in seconds, incoherent to the greatest extent. And sometimes he still manages the word  _more_ , but other times he can manage nothing other than whines and cries and, often, tears. 

And it's just so,  _so_ good that Louis never wants it to end, wants to feel this loved and taken care of for the rest of his life and he starts tearing up, choking out small sobs as he bucks down on Harry's fingers. Harry's watching as Louis' eyes squeeze shut, mouth still latched on his nipple as he licks and sucks against it just the way he knows Louis likes, peering in just the slightest. Louis can't keep his eyes open, but he knows he has to. With all the power he can manage, Louis gets an eye open just a snatch, just enough to see Harry's wide green eyes peering up at him, innocent in the way they stare, his lips pink and and wet and covering his nipple. Pulling up, Harry continues sucking at Louis' nipple and it lifts up with himself until the skin can stretch no longer and that's when Louis loses it. Feeling Harry's tongue lick over his other nipple kills Louis and when Harry hits his prostate again and again and again, Louis feels the biggest waves of pleasure overcome him, bucking and crying wildly, unable to control himself even in the smallest extent. 

It's the best orgasm Louis thinks he's ever had, the best feeling he's ever experienced and it's only when his eyes land on Harry, cock in his hand as it eyes it up like gold, precum dribbling over incessantly that he realizes he hasn't  _cum_ yet. Brows furrowing and eyes squinting in confusion, Louis' covered in sweat and remnants of  _Harry_ all over, still working his fingers in lazily and Louis decides Harry's arm is bound to be sore tomorrow when—

_Fuck._

Harry takes the head of Louis' dick in his mouth and swirl his tongue around, eyes fluttering shut appreciatively, loving the taste and feel of  _Louis_ and he can't help but suck it in,  _hard_. Louis throws his head back choking out a sob and it's too much, too much pleasure, too much love, too much  _Harry_ , but fuck he never wants it to stop. Louis  _really_ thinks he's going to cum now, and he wants to tell Harry to stop, that he doesn't want to cum without Harry there inside of him but all that comes out when he opens his mouth is a strangled, incoherent  _groan_ and he's so  _frustrated_ and so clouded by pleasure that he can't help himself when he starts bucking up into Harry's mouth when he's only three-fourths of the way down. 

" _Harry_ ," He finally pants out, but now it feels like he doesn't know what else to say, doesn't know how else to say anything else. " _Harry, Harry._ "

And it sounds like praise to Harry, so he goes on, nuzzles his nose against Louis' sparse patch of pubes and soaks in the feel of this, breathes in the smell he loves oh-so-much. And just when Louis thinks he's going to cum this time, just when he can feel it building up in his tummy, that's when he gets the words out. 

" _Harry_ ," He's trying to stop himself from bucking, hand on the back of Harry's head and he doesn't know if it's pulling him back or egging him on. " _Harry_ , _stop."_ He says, voice cracking and Louis' just so fucked out that Harry thinks it's only his orgasm coming on, that he doesn't really want him to stop and Harry doesn't want to stop either. But, reminding himself that this is about  _Louis_ , Harry wills himself to stop, pulling off with a small pop, lips swollen and wet, breathing hard. 

Louis' panting hard, eyes shut tight and tears rolling out of the corners. Harry waits for Louis to become coherent, working his cock lazily and wiping his other fingers off on the duvet as he kisses the tears away, kisses him all over his beautiful,  _beautiful_ flushed face, determined to remember the look of the blush on his cheeks and up his neck, the way the love bite he left earlier settles perfectly in the notch of his collar bone. Lastly, Harry plants a small kiss on his nose and Louis' eyes finally flutter open, catching Harry's eyes staring back down at him.

"Want you in me." Louis manages, not sparing a second. Harry nods, eyes wide and mouth open and begins making his way back down. Louis stops him, though, grabs his arms and tries to pull him back, Harry's attention averting back to him. "Harry, wait." He whispers, pulling Harry back in. He follows easily. 

When Harry's face is over his own, eyes staring down on his innocently, Louis pulls him down for a kiss, leaning up only in slight to capture his lips. It's a ginger kiss and Harry falls into it easily, tongues tender against each other's, simple and just happening, never trying to prove anything, just happening, just love. Harry's lips are warm and pink and wet and Louis wants to have them between his own forever, wants to suck on them like they belong to him—which Harry would testify that they do, in fact, belong to Louis. And he loves the feel of Harry's tongue on his own, loves the pants he leaves between every kiss and every movement, every show of love. Harry pulls away, panting softly. 

"'M gonna make love to you now." He says, hand caressing Louis' hair. Louis nods and it's all he can do to keep himself from trying to yank Harry back and convince him that all he needs is him right right, right now, that all he needs is (to feel) his lips between his own to know that he's loved because he knows Harry will feel guilty if he doesn't do this, knows that he needs to leave it to Harry, that it has to be all about him and what he's planned because even after this Louis knows that he'll have a tough time trying to forgive himself for what Louis has already forgiven him. And even though it hurts and Louis doesn't want him to feel bad, doesn't want him to feel like he has to do this he knows he has to let Harry do it, for his own sake.

"Okay."

Harry pecks a small kiss to Louis' lips before pulling back and sitting between his thighs, shucking his pants off and reaching for the lube. Harry's got the bottle open and some doused on his fingers when he thinks about leaving himself untouched, lubing Lou up and going in like that because this isn't supposed to be about him, it's supposed to be about  _Louis_. Harry rethinks it, reaching for Louis' stretched hole and putting some lube on and inside before putting some on his palm and rubbing himself over just enough to get the lube spread despite his urge to keep going. And it's not that strong, because he knows in his heart that he's doing this for Louis and that's all that matters.

Louis' staring up at him and he knees over to him, lining himself up with Louis' entrance. He leans in, hand on his cock as he kisses Louis slowly. Louis' hands on his shoulders by instinct, trying to hold Harry as close as possible, and when Harry finally, finally enters him, he can't help the gasp that breaks the kiss, can't stop his fingertips from digging into his shoulders.

" _Harry_ ," He breathes. Harry kisses him through it, eyes shut. 

"I know baby, I know. It's all about you," He breathes, "All about you." He reassures softly, taking his time as he pulls out and pushes back in, biting his lip to hold himself back. He wants this to last, wants Louis to remember this every time they have a fight, every time he doubts their future because Harry, Harry has _no_ doubts. Not anymore. And Harry wants to remember this himself every time he needs to remind himself to be patient with Louis, every time Louis stands back and waves him off, won't let his guard down. Harry wants to remember this every time he sees a couple fighting on the street or making googly eyes in a cafe, because Harry, Harry has something  _good_ , something  _worth_  coming home to everyday because _that's what Louis is_ , Louis is what _makes life worth living_. And he wants to remember that, needs to remember that for now and his future self, and he doesn't want this to be over, wants to feel Louis and his heat wrapped around him forever because he  _only_ trusts Harry at times like these  _only_ lets Harry see him at his most vulnerable, and that's enough to want this forever. 

Harry's pace is the same, but when he pushes back in it's with  _passion_ , drawing out slowly, letting Louis feel him and letting himself feel Louis before thrusting back in and  _showing_  Louis, showing him just how much he loves him, just how much he means to him. Louis can't stop his tears of pleasure and gratitude and  _love_ from falling and Harry's squeezing his eyes to stop his own. Their lips are working together in an art of passion and love, holding onto each other in the best way they know how, showing each other all the love they can. 

Harry's thrusting faster now, holding onto Louis and kissing him without pause, trying to find his spot, trying to show him. It's the slap of skin on skin and the mingling of breaths between lips that Louis will always remember, clutching onto Harry like he's never held anything important in his life. Harry's lips have ventured away now, the two trying to regain their breaths as Harry thrusts. Louis cries out as Harry's tip just brushes his sweet spot, wrapping his legs around Harry and trying to bring him closer. Harry's kissing down his neck now, soft, supple kisses that tickle Louis in just the right way, send shocks of pleasure to his already throbbing cock as he licks a stripe or two over the sensitive skin. 

Harry hits Louis' prostate dead on and Louis cries out, clenching around Harry hard, causing him to gasp himself, savor the feeling. Harry's thrusting harder now, hitting that spot  _every single time_ and Louis can't help it when he clenches around Harry, tries to keep him from pulling out and just wanting that  _feeling_ over and over again. His orgasm's building up and Harry can't help it when his own builds up quicker, trying his hardest to hold out. Louis' pulling Harry back down to his lips, trying to feel him all over, feel the person who loves him so much, the man who's making him feel this good. Harry tries his hardest, continues thrusting, aiming for Louis' spot over and over again, feeling as he clenches around him. 

"Louis," He pants against his lips, cut off. "Louis, stop, stop. I can't do it, I can't not cum, babe, you have to stop." He says finally, bottoming out, all his movement stopping. His eyes are wide on Louis' and he doesn't want to cum yet, wants to watch Louis first, wants it to be all about Louis, doesn't care if he doesn't cum in the end but he can't stop himself and he body, can't keep himself from it and  _fuck_.

Louis nods, eyes wide and arms strung around Harry's neck. "Start slow, Harry. Start slow for me, I want you to. I want you to start slow and build it up, okay? And if you need to cum, do it,  _I want you to_. Cum in me, let me feel you, let me feel your love." He says, knowing the words will work. Harry nods, panting now. 

"Yeah, okay, yeah." He says, leaning back in for a kiss. As they kiss, tongue on tongue, Harry gets a groove, rolling his hips against Louis', just brushing over his prostate. Soon Harry's pulling out in small thrusts that turn into just his head in before slamming back in, circling a bit and trying to find Louis' spot before pulling back and starting back again. They're both sweating and panting, but Harry's thrusts start becoming routine, in and out again and again and Louis can tell that he's close, head hung between his shoulders as he pants, catching glimpses of himself going in and out, again and again. 

"Louis, Louis, I'm close." He pants, looking up. Louis nods, breathing hard.

"Let go, Harry. For me, I want you to let go." Harry can feel himself tearing up as he tries to hold himself back, but he can hear Louis' words egging him on and he can't hold back any more, eyes shut tight and head collapsed on Louis' chest as he fills Louis up. He stays in until Louis can feel him go limp, pulling out and leaning down to take Louis' cock in his mouth, as breathless as he is. It shocks Louis, not expecting that and not that soon, but Harry takes him as far as he can without spluttering, taking deep breath of air through his nose as he does, looking up at Louis with tired, watery eyes and that's just about all it takes for Louis to let go, letting Harry swallow him down as he cums with a cry. When he's done, Harry wipes over him mouth lazily with the back of his hand before leaning in and kissing Louis before he catches his breath, panting between the kisses, letting Louis taste himself on his tongue. 

Louis' hands find their way to Harry's hair, brushing it back and holding it between his fingers as they kiss. It's almost languid, but still with that spark of  _need_ and  _passion_ in it and Louis loves every second. They're deep into the kiss when Harry releases a pant, trying to make the kiss deeper, his tears falling onto the apples of Louis' cheeks. Louis' eyes flutter open and he sees the tears falling out of Harry's shut ones, the pain scribbled on his face. 

"I love you, Louis." He whispers on his lips. "I love you, Louis Tomlinson. So much." Louis' bottom lip is caught between Harry's teeth and he can feel the desperation behind it, trying hard to keep himself from crying, trying hard to be strong for Louis, trying hard to show him how much he loves him. Louis tears up, too, doesn't like seeing Harry hurting inside or out. He wraps his arms tighter around Harry. 

"I love you, too, Harry." He chokes out. Harry gives up, forehead falling onto Louis' as he pecks as kiss on his lips, panting and crying without means of stopping. Louis soothes him, crying himself. 

"Love you so much." He says, "Won't ever leave you again, won't ever leave this bed." And soon they fall asleep wrapped up in each other, supple kisses exchanged, lips and breaths meeting, tongues mingling, loving each other.

                                                                                                      —

When they wake up again, it's twelve in the afternoon Louis' wrapped up in Harry. They're staring at each other tiredly, swollen lips and eyes, disheveled hair and sticky bodies, sweaty all over. Louis cuddles in further, sticking his head in Harry's neck as he takes a deep breath. Harry pets over his back.

"I love you, Harry." Louis whispers on his neck, eyes fluttering shut as he takes in his scent. 

Harry smiles softly, arms warm around Louis as he places a kiss on his disheveled hair, lingering. "Love you, Louis."

A few minutes of silent pass between the two as the breathe, contemplating. Harry's stomach grumbles, Louis laughs. 

"Hey, Harry?" He hums. "I know you said you were going to stay in bed and all," He says in a small voice, poking softly at Harry's tummy. "But I think your body says differently." Harry huffs a laugh, tackling Louis over so he's on his back, hands running up his thighs as he sucks a love bite into Louis' neck, leaving him laughing.

"Harry!" He laughs, "Harry,  _stop_." He tries again, laughing and pushing his head back as hard as he can. Harry  _knows_ how to make love bites purple. 

"It was metaphorical you _dweeb_." Harry says, biting Louis' neck. Louis can't stop laughing, tries to push Harry back, but he can't so he gives up, laughing harder when Harry squeezes his thighs, tickling them just right. When Harry's done satisfied with his work, he pulls away, cocky smile lifting his swollen eyes and reminding Louis of what they just shared. Louis grins. He loves Harry, and Harry loves him. There's silence as Harry kisses up his neck, making his way to Louis' lips. He doesn't kiss him, just takes his lip between his teeth and lets it snap back, aiming to tease the way Harry always does, and Louis' glad that they're good now, back to their old ways if not better. (Louis feels less shelled in, now.)

Harry starts kissing back down his neck and Louis doesn't know if he's looking for another round or _what_ , but. "Harry," he says softly, voice catching as he licks over his nipple. "Needa shower." He slurs, trying to keep his calm, but Harry's scarping his teeth over the bud and Louis' not sure how long he can hold out. " _Harry_." He gives one good suck before pulling up completely, meeting Louis' eyes mischievously.  

"Then breakfast?" 

Louis nods, near breathless. "Then breakfast." He agrees, though it's hardly time for breakfast.

Harry grins, grabbing Louis up and taking him to the bath, showering him with kisses under the shower of water and Louis' still reserved, but it's a nice kind of reserved, a red cheeked kind of reserved that let things happen and pretended not to be enjoying clearly as much as it was being enjoyed. Harry loves it, and Louis feels free, happy for once, without worry.

Louis loves Harry, and Harry loves Louis and no one can take that away. No past ghosts, no future troubles, because their love is for the books. There to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> Request: _...louis is jealous of harry - maybe him and Nick's friendship...and lots of louis insecurity ect...nick goe too far and kisses Harry...Harry pushes him away...has to win louis back...loads of left out louis+ unknowing Harry? :) x_  
>  I hope it was alright, love xx  
>    
> 


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